Aurora Picture Show The Aurora Picture Show is a holy trinity of art, media and fun. Located in a former church (the audience still sits in pews), the tiny Aurora Picture Show has presented film, video and installations by locally and nationally known artists since 1998. A desperately needed alternative to your standard cineplexes, the Aurora is a place where executive director Andrea Grover's gentle greyhounds might rest their heads in your lap, and local musicians sometimes accompany screenings. Upcoming highlights include a performance by Reverend Bill and the Church of Stop Shopping in observance of "Buy Nothing Day," an appearance by Laura Harrison and a screening of her documentary Voting in America, and a Found Magazine event with a juried show of found-footage pieces.

Under the Volcano Taking its cue from the Malcolm Lowry novel of the same name, Under the Volcano is a colorfully riotous celebration of El Día de los Muertos -- the Day of the Dead -- all year round. As you walk in, there's a glassed-in shrine to recent notables who have passed over, complete with clipped-out newspaper obituaries and fresh flowers. Boldly colored Mexican folk art statues, glowing tin lamps and dusty, old paper flowers cover the walls, which are themselves painted in festive pastel shades. The tropical theme even extends to the parking lot, which is walled in with oleanders, bougainvillea and other flowering shrubbery. The vibe here renders you powerless to resist ordering up one more drink.

Under the Volcano Taking its cue from the Malcolm Lowry novel of the same name, Under the Volcano is a colorfully riotous celebration of El Día de los Muertos -- the Day of the Dead -- all year round. As you walk in, there's a glassed-in shrine to recent notables who have passed over, complete with clipped-out newspaper obituaries and fresh flowers. Boldly colored Mexican folk art statues, glowing tin lamps and dusty, old paper flowers cover the walls, which are themselves painted in festive pastel shades. The tropical theme even extends to the parking lot, which is walled in with oleanders, bougainvillea and other flowering shrubbery. The vibe here renders you powerless to resist ordering up one more drink.

Cezanne Sure, there are more glamorous spots to catch jazz in this town. You can delight in the sights of open-backed, little black dresses and power players at spots like Scott Gertner's Skybar or Sambuca. But jazz has always been about the music. And traditional, straight-ahead fans have always flocked to tiny rooms to listen to serious players. Tucked up above the Black Labrador, Cezanne is hardly noticeable to nonfans, but there it sits, home to local and statewide cats such as Kellye Gray, Sebastian Whittaker and David Craig, as well as the occasional national act. For jazz fans who love performance over pretension, shows here promise all the intimacy of an exclusive gig in your friend's living room.

Cezanne Sure, there are more glamorous spots to catch jazz in this town. You can delight in the sights of open-backed, little black dresses and power players at spots like Scott Gertner's Skybar or Sambuca. But jazz has always been about the music. And traditional, straight-ahead fans have always flocked to tiny rooms to listen to serious players. Tucked up above the Black Labrador, Cezanne is hardly noticeable to nonfans, but there it sits, home to local and statewide cats such as Kellye Gray, Sebastian Whittaker and David Craig, as well as the occasional national act. For jazz fans who love performance over pretension, shows here promise all the intimacy of an exclusive gig in your friend's living room.

Infernal Bridegroom Productions' Symphony of RatsStepping into the Axiom theater for Symphony of Rats was like entering an attic from another world. In a place where presidents receive messages from robots -- who make bubbles and smoke cigarettes as they discuss philosophical constructs -- Infernal Bridegroom's production of Richard Foreman's play called for serious set creativity. Designed by the company as a group, the stage was a crazy quilt of cartoon images with messages like "Oil Isn't Fuck Glitter" and "CB Head Face Machine" splattered across the cinder-block walls. TVs, space ships and skeletons drifted in the melee. Official-looking papers and folders were scattered across the floor, and in the middle of the stage sat an enormous Plexiglas box where the president of the free world tried to learn golf. Symphony of Rats came together with its own delicate logic, and it owed much of its success to this chaotic atmosphere.